


How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Nemesis

by BenignCyborg



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, AU of Nathaniel's comic, AU within an AU technically, It's late for the exchange I know, M/M, ML Secret Santa, Villains to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22157347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenignCyborg/pseuds/BenignCyborg
Summary: Nathaniel is the Illustrator, a one-in-a-million mistake working with Ladybug and Chat Noir to stop Hawk Moth's schemes.Reverser is just like him, except he's taking orders from the man they're trying to stop.How on earth did they become friends on patrol together?
Relationships: Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Comments: 7
Kudos: 92





	How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love My Nemesis

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @mlsecretsanta on tumblr for hosting this event and putting up with my need for an extension. And if this does get accepted, thank you for still taking me a few minutes past my deadline.
> 
> Thank you to @myanchorandyourcompass on tumblr for setting the challenge. I'm sorry I made you wait, I hope it's worth it.

_Happy (Late! Sorry!) Hanukkah, love! Here’s something I’ve been writing for you- call it allegory, meta-fan-fiction, an in-joke… As gifts go it’s probably really lame to write you non-canon stuff for our comic, but I thought it’d be a funny way to unwind from the stress of actually working on the real thing._

_-Your partner-in-crime_

* * *

* * *

Every human likes to think it’s in charge of its own life. Yet, too often, one can be swept up by the unexpected actions of others. Nathaniel Kurtzberg was very well-acquainted with being swept up against his will. Anxiety was his constant bane, and never more so than when events spiraled into uncertainty. There was the move to Paris, a decision driven by his family to be closer to his mother’s job. In the early akuma attacks, before the emergency protocols were established, he’d be struck with fear over what unpredictable, uncanny monster would spring around the corner and whatever unforeseeable magic attack they’d employ.

But all those things, he could at least count on _someone_ knowing the answers, or at least having more of an idea on how to handle the situation. The biggest shift in his life up to this point was one so unpredictable, so inconceivable, that no one could possibly have any hope of assuaging his concerns.

The events of this change happened quite early into the situation, when he himself was transformed into his alter ego for the first time against his will. Specifically, after, when he couldn’t transform back out.

Chat had dubbed him a “permakuma,” a term so loathed by both Ladybug and Nathaniel himself that it was adopted immediately. Mentally, he was still Nathaniel, no matter what, but with the stylus that had been his akumatized object, he could transform into his akuma state once again.

Even now, the Illustrator, who had fought alongside his heroes for many moons, would still shudder in fright should his mind wander back to that first moment he failed to switch back from his akuma form. It was a moment that, over the next few months, he’d find himself pondering again and again. All because today, something was about to go unexpectedly.

* * *

He was called Reverser, and he reversed people. Reversingly. That was his whole thing, as far as Nathaniel was concerned he was just another stupid akuma. The artist would be kicking himself later.

Nath didn’t know anything about the victim, no one did. He had taken the mayor hostage, done some other stuff, but it was all over. Ladybug had taken the akuma. Purified it. The fight was done, and Ladybug was doing her thing, preparing to release the butterfly at last.

It was all very sudden to Nathaniel- the fight was almost boring, and he zoned out for pretty much all of it. The result was that he didn’t see the elephant in the room at first- at least, not until he belatedly realized Reverser was still… Reverser.

In his defense, it had been a long night of drawing and anxiety, and the fuzz in his brain failed to alert him in time that this was a very bad thing.

“W…Where am I?” was the question coming from him. The spectators who had braved the humdrum to watch the fight were murmuring in confusion, and the Illustrator shared the sentiment.

Yet some part of him understood. He felt a twinge of recognition as Reverser looked down at himself. Recalled the horror that shot through his veins, a mirror of which now growing through this poor sap’s face.

He took a step forward, towards the boy that was so much like him…

That was a mistake.

“Get away!” he shouted, scrambling to his feet, snatching the black book that was the remains of his glider, and turning tail. Civilians moved quickly to get out of his way, obscuring Illustrator’s attempts to pursue him.

It was for naught. Reverser, not for the last time, escaped him.

* * *

The next day, an akuma called Anansi attacked. She was helped by Hawk Moth’s newest henchman.

Since then, Reverser was spotted many more times, sometimes aiding a villain, sometimes out on his own. Each time, Illustrator would try and take him down, or get him to see reason. But it wouldn’t happen- Reverser would smile, like it was just some game to him. They’d fight, banter, one of them would get the upper hand, and the other would miraculously escape. This went on for weeks: Illustrator and Reverser, the two anomalies, were nemeses.

For Illustrator, it was his duty as a hero of Paris to stop his enemy, the only other like him, in whatever he was planning.

For Reverser, it was the thrill. He took an adrenaline-fueled delight in every glider chase, every match between them, and especially every narrow escape.

* * *

Months passed. Illustrator had taken to patrolling the streets at night. It usually cleared his head after a stressful day at school, and after a few times a nighttime stroll on the top of the world. Almost nothing ever happened anyway, so it was generally meant to calm himself down after a day of stress, such as the one immediately preceding tonight.

To think Reverser had him on the ropes this time… he shuddered to think of what might happen if he ever won a fight against him.

He was grateful for the sanctuary-like comfort the quiet, darkened streets provided, so he could take his mind off his evil, monochromatic counterpart.

On good days, anyway. On bad days, the bastard would be out and about on the prowl, just looking for trouble.

Ah… there he was. And yep, he’d spotted him, too, and was glowering at him, already drawing closer.

“Well, well…” Reverser began menacingly, as typical. “I hoped I’d catch you tonight.”

Illustrator snorted tiredly. “You haven’t caught jack.”

If Reverser caught the ennui in his adversary’s tone, he didn’t act on it. “Maybe tonight will be my night. You’ve been hanging around that scruffy black tabby. Luck ain’t in your favor.”

The hero sighed. “Third time.”

The villain blinked. “What?”

“That’s the third time in two weeks you’ve used that line.”

“What?”

“Or a line referencing Chat Noir as the cause of my inevitable defeat. Which, as you can see…” He gestured to himself.

“Oh.” Reverser pursed his lips. “Sorry.”

Illustrator gawked up at him. “What?”

“Uh—”

“Did you just _apologize_? To _me_?”

He put his hands out defensively. “Well… It just kinda came out.” He hopped off the glider, now on Illustrator’s level. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I mean. Don’t take it personally, I still hate you and all. But I swear, I’m usually more clever than this.”

“Sure you are.” With a roll of his eyes, he got into a fighting stance, holding his pen in one hand, ready to begin their near-nightly routine. When Reverser didn’t prepare himself, he coughed. “Well… Are we gonna…?” He pretended to punch the air.

“Uh…” Idly, Reverser shifted his weight. “Well now I kinda don’t want to.”

Twice now in this conversation, Illustrator was astounded. “What?”

“Well, yeah.” He half-heartedly gestured at him. “You killed the mood.” He looked across at his foe’s agape expression and chuckled lightly. “I am loving the stupid look on your face, though, I just wish I had the creative ambition to wipe it off.”

“ _Creative amb_ —” He groaned at the immature antics of his nemesis. “Well! Don’t blame _me_ for your lack of originality! It’s not like you’ve ever gotten close to beating me.”

Reverser exhaled. “Yeah…”

“You’re getting stale. Three months, we’ve just been… doing this. It’s getting kind of old.”

“I—” He quickly glanced to the side, huffed, and added indignantly, “I liked it.”

“Yeah, well I was trying to enjoy a night _without_ thinking about you and your… stuff.”

“My stuff?”

“Your _you-ness._ That flagrant, moral disregard, and that childlike glee in doing whatever you want.” 

This analysis solicited a mocking gasp. “Oh, you noticed! Flattery will get you everywhere!”

“…And now the weird kinda-flirty talk, trying to throw me off my guard by using my words against me.”

The grin stayed where it was. “Is it working?”

“ _No._ ”

“Give it a minute.”

“No.”

Reverser huffed. “Well, to be quite honest, you’re not the only one who’s tired. And…” he paused, appearing to weigh the pros and cons of an arrangement, before shrugging and continuing, “I’ve got to get up in the morning, and we both know if we attack each other now, we’ll be out here until, like, two in the morning. Neither of us are fit to defeat anyone in this state.”

“That is fair,” Illustrator agreed. Then he added, almost wistfully, “I miss sleep.”

The artist was ready to turn and go right then, but a new issue presented itself and he chewed his lip mulling it over. “But… I can’t really ignore you, can I?”

Reverser winked. “I dare you to try.” Shaking his head, he returned to business. “But no, seriously, if Hawk Moth found out I let you go tonight… it wouldn’t bode well for me either.”

“Huh.”

“So… how about we just… watch each other. Make sure we’re not up to anything. Keep ourselves occupied in the meanwhile. And then we conveniently lose sight of each other in the thick Parisian skyline, and fucking go to bed.”

“Hey!”

Confused at the outburst, Reverser looked at him for an explanation. “What?”

“Nothing…” Illustrator crossed his arms. “Just wasn’t expecting you to swear.”

He paused for a moment… and then pointed to himself. “Villain,” he reminded. “Now, my idea?”

There was a sigh as Ilustrator conceded. “Well… I don’t like not keeping an eye on you.”

“Well, we can’t have you taking your eyes off me. Wouldn’t do at all.”

“What? No!” Illustrator backed away. “I-I meant… oh, forget it.”

“Why would I want to do that?” He raised his eyebrows in a manner clearly intended to insinuate something. “I quite like strong men showering me in compliments.”

With a resounding “Ugh,” Illustrator loudly gave up trying, loudly proclaiming. “I don’t understand you.”

“What’s to understand? I’m dashing, cloaked in mystery.” He raised a hand to his forehead, looking like a romantic-era painting (if strange boys with weird face markings were the subject of romantic-era paintings). “Oh,” he declared, “to be a young rascal in Paris.”

“You’re weird. Ugh… Kinda liked you better when you were punching me.”

Reverser leapt up with a snap of his fingers. “So you admit you liked me!”

Illustrator raised his stylus back to his tablet, angered, daring Reverser to continue. He didn’t, electing to back off, gratefully.

“Sorry,” he apologized, and this time he looked like he meant it. “So… this is just so we can recuperate. Just for tonight.”

“Just for this night,” agreed the hero.

* * *

After many nights, Illustrator realized, to his chagrin, that he now saw Reverser nearly every time he went out. And he was even more of a pest when they weren’t fighting.

Not that he’d rather they keep fighting, of course, now that this had become their system. He was too lazy to strike back against him, and too stubborn in his alleged duty to try and lose him.

What’s worse, he was beginning to grow accustomed to his foe’s constant existence. Once, he went a whole hour without seeing his black-and-white cloak, and felt a sort of anxious emotion halfway between relief and concern. He wondered if the ceasefire had ended, and now Reverser was planning a new line of attack.

But he wasn’t. He was just on the other side of town tonight for a change of pace. He reminded Illustrator in this way like a cat (not like his own catlike cohort), lounging around with no care that he was one of the most wanted people in Paris.

Such a way to describe Reverser seemed jarring. When he was under Hawk Moth’s direct influence via the akuma, he was mostly angry. Wrathful, even. He’d been fairly clever, to, but his emotions got the better of him.

Now, it seemed as a willing accomplice, that wrath had mellowed significantly. He was still clever, and he relished his abilities whenever he got the chance, forming paper gliders and tossing them for distance when he wasn’t throwing them at people. He was on his own larger glider almost constantly, no doubt enjoying the feeling of being above everyone.

He came down whenever he saw Illustrator, however. During the daytime, this usually meant they were going to start fighting. Nighttime, like now, meant he wanted to engage him in conversation.

Theirs was a strange relationship. Nathaniel didn’t know how to describe it – he wasn’t complaining, as long as he was finally getting sleep.

“Bonsoir. Good evening, my dear enemy. I’d tip a cap if I had one.”

He probably would, too. Sleep had also done wonders in rejuvenating his spirits, and his villainous mania now was as mellowed as his temper. To some, it might have even been seen as charming.

Nathan didn’t know how to feel about him. Illustrator, however, tried always to be professional. “Been up to anything?”

He laid down on his own glider. “The usual nothing, I’m afraid. I was planning to rob a jewelry store, but it appears I’m thwarted by the appearance of the local law enforcement.”

It wouldn’t have been as funny if the person saying it wasn’t a supervillain who was… kind of sometimes cordial with him, a superhero.

Emotions were confusing. Personal relationships, too.

“You sound vaguely resentful.”

“Far from it.” He closed his eyes, allowing himself some rest. “I’m very glad we made this arrangement. _Badness_ knows, we weren’t accomplishing anything by going out and fighting each other, not giving each other time to plan and prepare. That’s the very definition of insanity, that.”

“Oh, is it now?”

Reverser waved a gloved hand at him noncommittally. “Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. As the saying goes, anyway.”

Something struck Illustrator from his statement. “Isn’t that what Hawk Moth is doing?”

The other one opened his eyes and glanced at him. “What?”

“He keeps attacking the city in the same ways. Isn’t that the definition of insanity?”

Reverser closed his eyes again. His reply was muttered under his breath, and were it not for his closer proximity, Illustrator wouldn’t have heard it. His face, one of tired resignation, not very pleased at all.

_‘Yeah, no shit it is.’_

With confusion brewing, he straightened up his stance. “Excuse me?”

Reverser jolted to attention, shooting to a sitting position. “W-What? What was it?”

“Nothing…” Just a peak behind the veneer, was what it was. The first of many later slips of Reverser’s mask. “Why do you work for Hawk Moth? You don’t exactly project a high opinion of him.”

“What!?” He coughed, collecting himself, then stood back up. “I mean, what gave you that impression?”

“Just… a hunch.”

“Well…” He gestured back at him. “What made you decide to be good? I can’t fathom, I’m sure.”

The attempt to divert the conversation did not go unnoticed, but Illustrator still gave an answer. “Because I could, and because people needed me to be.”

Reverser scoffed.

“Now, don’t you start—”

Reverser snapped at him, “The world doesn’t work like that.”

“I like to think it does.”

“It doesn’t,” he spat. “Not all the time. Some people, you need them to be good, and they fail. Sometimes you try to be good and it doesn’t take.” He sighed. “I’m the bad guy, sure. I’m just doing what I need to do.”

“Following the whims of a lunatic, while you’re at it,” Illustrator pointed out, quite unwisely, causing him to rear up defensively.

“That is not the point!”

“Sorry, geez.” The artful avenger clenched his jaw, surveying him. His rage was calling back to mind his pre-permakuma self. “I can see you being a villain alright.”

Reverser winced. Again, his emotions betrayed him, but not in the way Nathaniel envisioned.

Why react to that? Why was _that_ the thing that hurt? Despite it being a fact, one obvious to Nathaniel, one Reverser proclaimed many times, this comment… had cut him?

Why was Nathaniel feeling such intense sympathy in that moment?

The Mighty Illustrator found himself stuttering. “I-I didn’t mean—”

“I-it’s nothing, shut up.”

“No, Revers—” He sighed, cutting himself off. There wasn’t any point in antagonizing him further.

Instead, he let it go. For his trust.

Yeah. They trusted each other. Okay, that was a weird thing to realize at this second, but here it was anyway.

“Can I not call you Reverser?”

“Huh?”

“I can’t take you seriously, man.”

“Oh.” The two-tone terror embraced the change in topic, launching back into his other persona (was that what it was? A persona?). “Course, we have become quite familiar, haven’t we? We deserve some level of personal acquaintanceship. Tell you what, you can call me Versey, and I’ll call you… Lusty.”

“ _Please_ don’t,” the hero groaned. “I am _literally_ begging you.”

“Well, I am Reverser, darling, that’s who I am. What else could you call me?”

“I don’t know, a _name?_ ”

Reverser tsked. “I’m afraid you’re forgetting something very important, dear hero.”

“Well, obviously not your real name. I’m not… I’m not asking that. I never would have asked that. I mean, you’d never give it anyway.”

“Then why do you need a name?”

“I don’t. Not if you don’t want to.”

Reverser shrugged, crossing his arms and marveling at how neatly his point had been made. “Then, there. Hmph. Names.”

“Alright.”

And nothing else was spoken for some time. Illustrator looked around- there were people still awake at this hour, but none who had noticed either of them from where the shadows had concealed them. He could probably still slip away and be unnoticed.

“You first.”

The hero looked back. “What?”

“A name, give me a name, any name, dammit.”

“Why?”

Reverser nearly looked like he hadn’t expected that. “Well, because I want it, now give it to me.”

Thrown off by his sudden change in moods, Illustrator shook his head. “Well, now I don’t want to.”

“Oh, for _pity’s_ …” He sighed. “Fine, do you want me to say it? Yeah. You got me. I look forward to this.”

He didn’t expect, nor want him to say anything of the sort, but he didn’t let on that he’d been so badly misinterpreted. “Me too.”

“I like doing this. This… masquerade.”

“I figured.”

“But I’m honestly so tired of it. My anger and my sloth are fighting and my sloth is winning.”

“Yeah. Okay.” He didn’t understand in the slightest.

“It’s so hard, too. Reminding myself we’re on opposite sides. I mean look at us, if things had been different…”

He trailed off, at that idea, and Illustrator would have bet anything there was a small, concealed hint of wistfulness locked away behind those eyes of his at that moment.

But then the scoundrel returned to reality, picking up on a different note. “When we talk, I can kinda ignore the mask… No. I can see the mask. That mask means you’re like me. You were like me… a villain, before Ladybug freed you and you chose to do good.”

“But you chose to be a villain.”

“So did you,” he reminded. “He gave you a little push, but you ended up agreeing. He clouded your mind with illusions of power, dreams from the depths of your anger or sadness or whatever it was. You gave in, and that’s not your fault, ‘cause everyone does. I can see your mask because it reminds me you gave in too, once. But you, Illustrator… you made that name. Your hero name. And I’m the bad guy, I’m Reverser. That’s my name. And there’s a lot more I can say about that, but… yeah.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“So…” Illustrator frowned. “Correct me if I got this wrong…”

“Okay.”

“But… you want to call me a different name… and you want me to call you something else…”

“Yes.”

“…because you think it emphasizes how we’re on opposite sides.”

“Yes, well, that was the _symbolism_. I hoped it would remain covert, it’s no good being clever if it gets explained at you.”

“Well, we both know you like being clever.”

He laughed haughtily. “Of course I do. My raison d’etre! To be the great wordsmith.”

“Well, what do you want me to call you?” he asked.

Reverser quieted. He tilted his head, considering for a moment, and then decided, “Cecil.”

“Sounds fake.”

“It is. But it has a great sound to it. I’m sure Oscar Wilde himself would agree. Call me… ‘Cecil Arman.’”

Illustrator didn’t argue further. “Kirby. Kirby… Lee.”

“Cute name.”

“It’s also fake.”

“I know. Still cute”

“Does Wilde agree?”

“Quoting his work, I’d say the name produces… _vibrations._ ” He tapped his chest a few times to underline it, mimicking his own heartbeat.

Nathaniel, unfortunately, knew the quote, and so admitted to Reverser’s delight, “I walked right into that one.”

* * *

A few more weeks passed, along with a few more akumas. Nathaniel would have admitted that he and his rival were rather close for mortal enemies, but he would leave it at that. He was still assisting Hawk Moth.

Sort of.

Well, he was _visibly_ half-assing it. And Nathaniel was having complicated emotions over this fact.

Not just that either. No, it would be one thing if “Cecil” was losing interest in villainy, but it seemed that all the energy he wasn’t directing towards Ladybug and Chat Noir was now being redoubled towards himself.

There was a crazed look in his eyes, sometimes. A desperation, whenever they fought together.

And in _yet another thing_ , Reverser barely put on a fight at all. He fought, very vigorously, and also very weakly. Nathaniel was almost _certain_ there was some charade going on, and it was driving him quite insane.

It was frightening, too.

_Reverser_ frightened and confused him.

And if that wasn’t enough, he acted every night as if those fights hadn’t happened. Their battles were escalating in tension, but not in any meaningful way. It was infuriating.

So, in order, he was feeling betrayed, hopeful, frightened, confused, and infuriated.

Good. Finally got a few things straight.

The smug bastard was lounging atop a building somewhere, and Illustrator didn’t let him get a word in before he asked. “Why?”

Reverser smiled, and that caught him _way_ more off guard than it should have. “Why, hello to you too.”

In that one instant, before the overly-charming mask had supplanted it, right as Reverser’s eyes had caught his, there was genuine happiness. He was sure of it.

“Why are you doing the… weird emotion thing.” It could have been phrased much better, but he hoped the point still came across.

“Finally succumbing to my wiles, are we?”

Illustrator wanted to scream, but knew a reaction would just encourage him. “Why aren’t you trying at all? When we fight?”

There was a sigh. “I don’t want to bring work matters into our private lives… But who says I’m not? Maybe you’ve just found a second wind.”

“Come on. I’ve fought you enough during the akumas to know you weren’t giving it your all. You haven’t for days. You’re all creepily intense about it too, it’s weird.”

“Well, we are rather weird, you and I. Weird folk. Queer, indeed?”

“Will you _just—!”_ Nathaniel stopped himself. Anger was not going to help.

He considered his next words carefully.

“You’re right.”

“Am I? Wonderful.”

Illustrator laughed, and it was a hollow laugh. “I’m… I’m weird, alright. And you… You’re _really freaking weird_. Vexing, in fact. You’re my enemy, we hang out, you flirt, you punch me in the face, but it doesn’t _hurt_ , you’re _clearly holding back_ , but you’re screaming how today’s the day you’ll finally defeat me… who’s it for?”

“Who’s what for?” was his languid reply.

“It’s Hawk Moth, isn’t it? I know you don’t _want_ to be on his side. Why are you doing it? _Why!?_ ”

Reverser stumbled to his feet, recovering from the outburst. “W-Why wouldn’t I want to?” He puffed out his chest, retreating back into his act. “Being a villain, I get to do what I want- nay, I’m expected to, and I don’t take heed of the law!”

Nathaniel waved it all off. “They don’t make highlighters big enough for your talk, bud. You hurt people…” He stopped, his head buzzing.

He tried again. “You…”

He stamped his foot, enraged at the sudden realization. “Have you ever actually hurt _anyone_!?”

Reverser kept his composure. “I want a new topic.”

Illustrator groaned in pain, rubbing his head. Yes, he remembered now. Looking back, Reverser had never dealt damage to civilians, _dammit_ , which made this even more confusing. For such a showy villain, he was so, _very_ , ineffective. “You maybe never hurt anyone. Actively, anyways, it’s always been the akuma, you only… you only fight me.”

“Well, I have to support the akuma, that’s what Hawk Moth directs me to do.”

“I’m a superhero. You only fight me because I’m the only target you _can_ hit, besides Ladybug and Chat Noir, and _they_ … they stop the akumas.” He blinked. “And you let them.”

Reverse grit his teeth. “Stop it.”

“You don’t want anyone to get hurt, do you? You want the miraculous cure to fix the damage every time. You don’t want Hawkmoth to win.”

His foe shook his head. “You certainly have a lot of ideas.”

“Then… why are you a villain at all?” Emotions swam in his head in a dizzying daze. “Do you… Do you _want_ to be good?”

“I’m the villain!”

“ _Why!?_ Why on earth are you against us when you so clearly want us to win?”

“I-I don’t! I have reasons!”

“What are they?”

“I… I get bullied. A lot.” He picked up speed, and intensity in his condemnations. “I-I’m gay, my… parents hate me, no fucking adult can get their shit together, or they’re a superpowered terrorist, or something! We’re fucking kids, we’re not supposed to have to deal with this superpowered bullshit!”

Reverser panted.

Illustrator looked at him, agape.

The villain (if he could be called that) gulped.

The hero slowly nodded, taking a deep breath. ”Okay,” he judged. “That took a weird turn about halfway through.”

“You think I like doing this?” Reverser seethed at him. “You think I like being despised… You think I like hurting people?”

He clenched his fists, almost as if he was going to hurt him. “Y-You’re… You’re dead………”

He dropped to his knees, hands covering his mouth, and face twisted in agony.

“…wrong.”

And the boy wept.

Wept for a weight that was heavy in his heart.

Illustrator was a hero, because people needed him, and he was willing and able to oblige whenever that happened.

He sat next to him, arms around him, as Reverser laid everything bare.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted. “You’re the closest… the only…”

“I know. I’m sorry that it’s like that for you.”

“I have to… I have to help him. Help Hawk Moth. Do everything for Hawk Moth.”

“You don’t… you could… you could be a hero. With me.”

“I can’t. I can’t do anything, he’s got me. I can’t. I can’t. I have to do what he says.”

“Why?”

“He knows my name.”

“He…” Illustrator stiffened. “He _what?_ ”

“He found me, caught up to me… right after I was akumatized… I have to do what he says or else…” He sniffed. “If I had just not… lost my temper that first time, maybe I could have—”

“Wait wait wait…” Illustrator gulped. “Hawk Moth… he knows _my_ name.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He does—”

“No, he doesn’t. At the time, you were just another pawn for him, he didn’t bother learning it. It was only after the fact, after he saw you in battle against the next akuma, that he realized he should have paid attention. He didn’t make that mistake with me.”

Never in his life was Nathaniel Kurtzberg so relieved to be overlooked.

“And,” the sadder one continued, “after having allied myself with him this long, I can’t back out now. He’ll expose me. I’ll be arrested, my life will be over. I’m nothing but a villain, I can’t be anything else. I’m just Reverser now…”

Illustrator let him sob into his shoulder some more, before asking, “How long has he been blackmailing you?”

He took a moment before replying. ”Since about the second or third time. Right about when I realized what I was doing. And it was all rage before, but… by the time I’d calmed down, I was in his trap. I couldn’t go against him… so I tried not to feel regret.”

“How’d he get you to do it the first time?”

“I’d just woken up as a human chessboard, I was confused. Still angry over what got me akumatized in the first place. He offered me an outlet… a way to get back at people. Weak of me, agreeing without his mind tricks or…” He abandoned his attempt at humor, letting it go with the rest of his barriers. “I’m not in the habit of making good decisions, I don’t know if you’ve noticed.”

“Me neither,” Illustrator admitted.

“Sh-Shut up.”

“No. I mean… I willingly drafted myself into this fight. And you’re right, it’s not our fight—shouldn’t be, at least. But if I tried to get out now…”

“ _Don’t_. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t.” He sighed. “I’d be letting down a lot of people if I didn’t see this through. Some things are more important, I tell myself. Not a healthy mindset, I know.”

This got a weak chuckle, which was maybe good. “We’re messed up,” Reverser admitted.

“We are.”

He sat there and let him cry, waiting out the emotional attack.

At this point, the fragile peace they had was shattered, and yet replaced with something stronger. The trust between them had pushed them closer together, through the walls Reverser had built for his own stability.

Illustrator broke that trust that night, tailing Reverser in secret until he saw the two-colored coat transform to a red jacket.

* * *

So.

That was it.

He had recognized him, alright. He’d seen him around at school. He was in a couple of his classes, mostly keeping to himself in the back of the room. He’d dropped by the art club once or twice, looking around, but they had never really interacted. He’d only heard his name a few times, but it had stuck in.

So Reverser was really Marc Anciel…

…

…

Come to think of it…

The realization itself wasn’t exactly jarring.

So Reverser was the quiet kid in the back of class, always scribbling stuff down. Okay. So Reverser was an artist like him. Big Whoop. He knew Reverser much better than he did this other guy, and this connection didn’t exactly change his opinion of his frequent foe.

Reverser went to his school. As the final bell rang on the day after this discovery, it occurred that Marc might have also pieced together his identity as well.

That unnerved him a little.

It made him excited.

Something was screwing around with his emotions, and he was more worried at the boy (the teenage boy, he remembered, not the young vagabond) who had broken down crying in front of him last night.

Because of him, which made him feel rotten.

Well, no, he’d only opened the dam, although, that made him feel worse about those times he’d insulted him before.

Emotions were _hard_ sometimes.

Nathaniel walked up to him and leaned on the stairs, looking down at the boy hunched over that black book he always had (The akumatized object? Only Marc really knew, didn’t he.).

“Marc?” he greeted tentatively.

“About time, dumbass.”

Nathaniel winced. “Sorry… Uh, if you don’t mind—”

“Weeks ago. I followed you and saw you transform back.”

“You… _what?_ ”

“Villain. And no, I didn’t tell Hawk Moth, I was never going to.” He stared up at Nathaniel from his hunched position, and nearly rolled his eyes. “Don’t act all high-and-mighty, you did the same thing last night. I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh.” He gulped. “Are you… mad?”

“No…” He threw his head back and sighed. “Yeah. I’m mad. Not at you, though, just at everything else.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Not if I can avoid it.”

“Should you avoid it?”

“Probably not, but, hey, that’s me. Psychological issues are my specialty. Come here, sit down and have a chat with a crazy person.” He patted the asphalt in front of him. “Let’s have some fun before you turn me in.”

“I’m not turning you in.”

Marc stopped scribbling, like a car slamming its brakes, and stared at him quizzically. “ _What?_ ”

Nathaniel repeated himself.

“B-But…” He pointed across at him. “You’re a hero.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m a villain.”

“No.”

“No, I _am_ , I’ve done… illegal things. You can’t just… _not_ turn me in.”

“Technically, vigilante justice is illegal. Are you going to turn me in?”

_“That doesn’t equate, and you know it!”_

“Maybe. But you could still expose me.”

“Of course!”

“And it would help for villainy if you did. Likewise, if I exposed you, it’d help for heroism’s sake. But you’re not going to expose me, are you?”

“Of course not!”

“There you go. And I trust you. Now do you trust me not to reveal your secret?”

“I… I guess I have no choice, but _yes?_ ”

“There you have it. We’re friends.”

“Sure. I guess. Fine. No. Wait. Back up. _Friends?_ ”

“We’re… I-I didn’t want to assume, never min—”

Marc silenced him with a gesture. “What… What did you say?”

“Uh…” “Are we… friends?”

Marc looked straight ahead, at his life which was currently about to slam into him at full throttle.

“Oh…… Fuck.”

“Um… What?”

“We _are_ friends…… _Oh fuck, we_ are _friends. Holy shit, how the fuck did that happen, we’re friends? Holy fucking… shit._ ”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m the worst- the _fucking worst supervillain ever_. Dammit, I fucked it up. I had one job, to do evil things, and I screwed it up by making friends with a hero. Dammit, we even exchanged secret identities. Shit. Fucking shit. Pardon my language.”

“Um…Pardoned?”

“Good. S _hit_. How the hell did…”

“Need some help with something?”

“I need a fucking psychiatrist. Something is wrong with me.”

“I don’t think so. I mean… the fact that we’re friends means something’s at least alright with you.”

Marc groaned. This was typical of a failure like him. Making friends.

Despite his best efforts, despite all attempts to ignore his own pain, he still goofed up and befriended a hero.

Why was it so hard not to care?

* * *

Marc’s existential crisis lasted for a while. He stilled served Hawk Moth, but he did it to a bare minimum. He couldn’t bring himself to ham up his performance these days. A new villain was scheduled for today- he learned her name was “Mayday,” with the ability to turn people insane.

He knew at once how bad of an idea this was, but he was powerless to stop it as Mayday made her grand introduction.

He watched and listened as she made her big speech. Something, something, crazy, something, revenge. He nearly found himself dozing off. This happened every time, after all.

He normally didn’t flinch at the screams- he couldn’t afford to get sentimental if Hawk Moth was watching him. He had to tune them out… besides, all the damage would be restored soon, right? And it’s not like akumas were all that dangerous usually.

Something was different this time. This time the screams hurt. This time they made him look.

On top of a building, Mayday had infected someone. They were laughing, dancing, and casually frightening a number of other people.

Pushing them off the edge.

Marc didn’t know why he shot to action. It was probably Nathaniel’s fault. But he suddenly found himself on his glider, zooming down to stop them.

He reached them right at the last second, and with no other ideas, he threw an airplane at the aggressor. The endangered people were witlessly pulled up, onto the glider, and flown quickly (safely) back down, and it was only then that Marc’s senses finally caught up with him.

 _No_.

He’d done it.

He’d doomed himself. Gone against Hawk Moth’s akuma.

His charges ran away as soon as they touched the ground, stealing glances back at their unlikely, paralyzed savior.

_‘What’s happening to me… Why did I do that… Why did it feel so right?’_

Mayday was not amused. “How dare you disrupt my chaos!” she shouted. She pointed a bony finger at him, and her bedlam of followers raced to apprehend him.

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t care, still thinking about the action he’d just made.

_‘Damn you, Nate Kurtzberg, get out of my head!’_

Speaking of Nathaniel… Reverser realized Illustrator hadn’t shown up yet to the fight.

“Dammit,” he cursed aloud, and flew off to find him, leaving the insane people behind.

* * *

Mayday’s power of madness had spread across the city very quickly. Nathaniel was in front of the Louvre, oblivious to the fight that had just started, which was just enough of a distraction for another of their victims to come and ruin his day.

A taxi driver, whose swirling purple-and-green eyes were obvious evidence of his altered mental state. 

Someone screeched next to Nathan, and bolted out of the way. He looked around and saw the man in his taxi, going maybe 80 kph towards the sidewalk. His hero reflexes honed, he jumped up, looking around for anything he could use, his hand already flying back to his pocket where his stylus was…

Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaniel thought he saw something thrown at the car.

Something seemed to hit the driver. He seemed to come awake, and in that moment of instinctual realization, noted he was sitting in the controls of a two-ton metal bullet that had drastically strayed off its designated path and was moving very fast towards other people who would not survive if it hit them. 

Doing what any sane person in his situation would do, he slammed the brakes. Nathaniel, shocked out of his (appropriate) deer-in-the-headlights stupor, began to push more people out of the way.

It almost wasn’t enough. Then something ran into him, hard, pushing the stragglers off the sidewalk and into safety.

Something big, black, and white.

Now Nathaniel understood. It must have been Reverser’s paper plane what hit the driver through the open window that snapped him back to his senses from the akuma-fueled daze. And it was he on his powerful glider who pushed the would-be victims out of danger.

The coat-covered arm grabbed his wrist and pulled him on the flying vehicle, and Nathaniel didn’t screech in terror. Definitely not.

Maybe a little.

“Seriously…” Reverser bemoaned as Nathaniel held on for dear life. “Did you have to go and get yourself in danger?”

“Y-Y-Y…” They were awfully high up, but coming down now into an alley where they wouldn’t be spotted.

“Yeah. I saved you. Sue me. Now get off.”

“W-Wha?”

“There’s an akuma on the loose, and you are staying out of trouble this time.” Somehow, Nathaniel was pushed off onto the pavement.

“B-But you…”

“I can’t stand it anymore, Nathan. Congratulations. You’ve broken me and now I’m going to go do something selfless. Call the looney bin.” The glider rose up.

“Where are you—”

“To help the heroes!” he shouted back, furious. “Hawk Moth can go to hell, I’m not doing his bullshit anymore.”

Nath stumbled to his feet. “W-Wait, no, Marc! Your identity!”

The glider stopped its ascent, about at his waist height. “Heh… What’s he gonna do? I’ve taken worse from bullies like him.” To the unaccustomed eye, Marc would have convincingly shown off his courage. Nathaniel knew him and his faces too well.

“Are you absolutely sure about that!?”

There was a groan, and Reverser pulled the hood further down, hiding himself in his identity. “I find your lack of faith disturbing.”

“Then tell me you’ll be alright!”

“What will it take for you to shut up!?”

Nathaniel grabbed him by the seams of his jacket and pulled him off the glider. “I can’t not worry about you,” he intoned, the seriousness in his voice piercing Marc’s resolve. “If you go… I’ll go too.”

“What!?” If it was possible for Marc’s half-white face to pale in terror, it did, while the black half turned positively charcoal gray. “No, you can’t!”

“Why not! I’m a hero, I can vouch for you!”

“You have your own life! This is my problem, I _have_ to fix it _myself!_ ”

“You don’t! That’s not how it works, Marc, that’s not how love works!”

There.

It was spoken.

Now it was real.

Reverser was struck dumb by the admittance, allowing Nathaniel to press on, unaware of what had spilled out.

“Please let me help you,” he begged. “I can’t stop you, just… just let me help you. You shouldn’t face the music without someone backing you up.”

They let the statement be for a moment. Then, after the silence, Reverser adopted his same, coy look that had annoyed and vexed Illustrator on his patrols.

“My dear hero,” was the response. “That was wordplay.”

“It—” Nathaniel grew flustered. “It was not! I didn’t mean—”

“It was almost poetic. Oh, how romantic you can be—”

“Shut up!”

“Make me.” He leaned close, their faces inches apart, his lips within range of Nathan’s. “I dare you,” he whispered.

“Why do you always have to turn it into a contest?” Nevertheless, he looked up at the boy who had once been his nemesis, with a hopeful smile gracing his lips.

“I live to impress.” Reverser smiled too, then, and it was all Nath needed before his heart jumped up into his head. With a smirk, the dashing rogue hopped onto his glider and pulled the hero up with him, one arm hooked around his waist. “I’ll be happy to oblige all your requests from before,” he proposed, “if you say that word again.”

“Which word?” Nathaniel managed to ask through the blush.

Reverser removed his hood and elaborated. “The one that we began to build when we stopped fighting and started listening. That grew like a flower in a sidewalk until its roots pushed the harsh concrete aside. That was heard when the energy between us stood still long enough for us to see what it was.”

He said it again. It was a little hard to hear over Ladybug’s shout of “Miraculous Ladybug,” but it was enough to make the hooded former villain smile wider, and it was incentive enough for the kiss that resulted.

(The swarm of ruby-red ladybugs didn’t hurt the mood either.)

Nathaniel looked around once they had separated, and the glider lowered. “Guess we missed the fight…”

Marc changed back to his civilian identity and put a hand on his shoulder. “With Ladybug’s own luck, my love, we’ll have another next week. But by that time, I look forward to battling alongside you.”


End file.
